"Where is she coming from?" he demanded, as he quickly turned over the leaves.
"The West," she answered promptly. "The telegram was from Buffalo. I suppose she was on her way when she sent it."
Brockton had found the right page, and was busy calculating the time made by the different trains.
"There's a train comes in here at nine-thirty—that's the Twentieth Century. That doesn't carry passengers from Buffalo. Then there's one at eleven-forty-one. One at one-forty-nine. Another at three-forty-five. Another at five-forty and another at five-forty-eight. That's the Lake Shore Limited, a fast train; and all pass through Buffalo. Did you think of meeting her?"
"No, she'll come here when she arrives."
"She knows where you live?"
"She has the address."
"Ever been to New York before?"
"I think not."
He passed back the timetable.